Weirdcrap Stories

One I'm Bob, friends call me bear. I work for a major restaurant chain I won't mention for national security. Let's just say there are hooters involved. At this hootery place I have a crucial job, a basket of chicken wings are placed in front of me and I lop on our three different kinds of hot sauce. That's my job. Without me those big breasted women would walk out of my kitchen with bare wings, relying on only their massive mammaries to keep us in business. To my left is Elian Gonzalez a young import who whines about Cuba. To my right is my dark stoner friend Kelvin, he was fired from his last job for jizzing in the mashed potatoes, he celebrated the getting this job by jizzing in the wing sauce. The three of us make up The Line; The Line is where your food is prepared. Then there are The Preppers; these stinky bastards bring the food from "ground zero" to "almost finished." Once it is "almost finished" it is brought to us for Final Preparation. One of the two Preppers back there is Albert, he is one of those guys that blames is weight problems on glands, when it is really just him inhaling half of the stuff he puts out. The other guy back there Bolaki (bo lick I). Bolaki is the kind of person the makes you not want to eat out. He doesn't wear a hair net and lord does he shed. Bolaki also likes to scratch himself in various places and the stick his hands in your food. He once actually sat bare ass on a bowl of salad mix. We have two managers. First there is Steven, he's a pear shaped guy that wears his pants under his gut and talks through his large mustache. Every night when the girls come in to settle the checks and tip out, he slaps each one on the ass. Man I envy that guy. Second in command is Jennifer, she is a lush, which works out too because she's pretty hot. She walks around the back of the house with spandex pants, lord, you'd think you died and went to big butt heaven. . Two "HOT FOOD!!!" "Lord Jesus Christ if he says that again I'm gonna drown him in this hot sauce," I thought. Steven gets a little excited whenever he sees some chicken wings or a burger sitting there for more than two seconds. I think I'm going to kill him. "Hey!" Elian smacks me upside my head. "If we were in Cuba you'd already be dead." "Yeah and if you were in Cuba you and Castro'd be butt buddies." Then I cracked him on the head with a wooden spoon.

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